Raise A Native
by ElleMeDit2016
Summary: A proud spearwife of the free folk, Halla Thornfrost considers herself a fearsome warrior. Content with her life, she doesn't yearn for anything more. That is until Mance Rayder sends her south to find out what life is like beyond the wall. On her mission, she ends up crossing paths with a certain imp, which takes her on a journey farther south than she bargained for.


❝ _The gods have no mercy, that's why they're gods._ ❞

-Cersei Lannister

* * *

 **Snow** crunched beneath her fur lined boots as she followed the tiny trail of tracks in the snow. A bone chilling wind clawed at her exposed face. Ruby cheeked and red nosed from its burn, she was thankful for all the furs she'd already collected this moon. Loping along her trapline, she passed by the skeleton of a deceased deer lost to the frozen terrain. Life beyond the Wall was harsh and unforgiving, but Halla Thornfrost wouldn't have it any other way.

Somewhere between thirty and forty, she'd been born into this desolate world and raised to thrive there. She knew nothing of the comforts of a life in the south. Halla didn't need such things. Comforts made men grow soft and weak. Soft men couldn't survive in these lands. It took a hard man to weather the hardships of this life. A man knew no true freedom if he was tied to material things. She owed nothing to no one and belonged to no one either. She was a freewoman and no man would hold claim over her.

A shift in the wind carried voices and shouts of men. Halla curse under her breath as she moved towards the snow hare she'd snagged. No raider would be so careless and she was too far from camp for their voices to carry. There was only one explanation for the disturbance. _Crows._ The vile word tainted her thoughts as her mind conjured images of the black cloaked southerners. _Watchers on the Wall._ They thought they were doing some great deed for their peoples, protecting the south from the likes of them. But they didn't do a very good job of it.

Freefolk had been sneaking past the Wall and it's crows for years, pillaging and loitering unsuspecting villages. Halla had never been to the other side. She'd only listened to tales told by those who'd survived. Campfire tales of men dressed in armor, lands filled with crops, and more temperate climates. These stories excited many of the younglings, inspiring them to follow. Yet countless others who dare never returned. Too many good men and woman had been lost fighting for more. Halla had no desire to follow in their footsteps. Let the others take them.

Burying the edge of her axe into the neck of the hare, Halla collected the bundle of meat and fur into a bundle and placed it in her sack. She had a few more traps to check before she headed back to camp. Although her clan was nomadic, if they found a good place they'd linger as long as the surrounding lands provided for them. Staying for moons until they either ran out of food or another clan drove them off. Fighting amongst tribes had lessened in more recent years.

Mance Rayder united the freefolk under a common goal. former crow had organized them and prepared them for a war against the crows. Ghosts from the past loomed in the shadows and their threat grew everyday. The threat flushed many tribes out of their native lands and it was becoming increasingly dangerous to stray too far from the camps alone.

Rising up from her crouch, Halla shielded her vision with a gloved hand as she checked the daylight. Evening was approaching faster than she realized, limiting the time she had to check the rest of her line. Footfalls fell upon her ears alerting her that she was being followed. Glancing over her shoulder, she spied three dark figures following her. They had just crested the last hill and moving directly towards her.

Grumbling at the annoyance, she paid the men no mind if they wanted to fight a lone spearwife. _Let them come._ Alone though she was, she wasn't concerned about her chances. She'd been killing crows since she was old enough to swing an axe. It would be simple. Killing people came easy for her and she was good at it.

Halla stopped in her tracks and hid in a thicket just off the trail, preparing herself for an ambush. The crows were still awhile off giving her time to contemplate which weapon she'd choose. Driving an axe into their skull was always fun. Her bow would be easiest. She could pick them off one at a time like snow birds on their roost. Bows and arrows weren't as effective in close proximity. No, she'd need her blade for this venture. Her gloved hand slide down to the hilt of the longsword that rested on her hip and pulled it from its sheath.

Gleaming in the sunlight, the blade was new to her. She had procured it from the corpse of the last crows she'd run into. Blades forged south of the wall were always of better quality than those most freefolk had access to. She would take great pleasure in wielding this against his brothers.

Breathing softly, Halla listened for the rangers and waited until they were almost upon her to attack. Body tensing, she gripped the sword, firmly as they followed her trail. Glancing over them, briefly, she noticed she'd never seen any of these men before. They must be new or newer to the Night's Watch than she'd originally thought. Still wet behind the ears and they were going to pay the price for stalking a trail unprepared for what might be at the end.

The trio was almost on top of her when their leader stopped, scanning the scenery. Looking up from his boots to the top of his head, Halla could tell he was a burly man with broad shoulders and a strong jaw beneath his beard. Next was a manchild with the face of a babe, he looked no older than her own son but his innocence was painfully clear. He'd never seen a battle before, let alone swung a sword. He'd be easy to take out just from lack of experience on his own part. Lastly, an old man brought up the rear. Poor bastard. He was well past his prime but carried himself well.

"W-what's going on, Byrion?" The boy squeaked, nervously as he stepped up next to their leader.

'Byrion' held out a hand to halt him, "Quiet, Wayne. I've lost the trail."

Halla heard Wayne gulp and his knees begin to knock, "H-how c-could you l-lose it?"

Another set of feet moved up as the old man clapped the boy upside the head, "Quiet you, I've been a ranger for nearly twenty years. Wildlings are crafty and they'll get ya when you least expect."

She almost snorted at the man's words. It was almost as if he'd read her mind. She wondered if she'd still have the advantage of surprise if she leapt out. They hadn't drawn their swords yet. If she ambushed them, they'd at a disadvantage and have to scramble for their weapons. She could pick off one of them without much resistance from the other two.

Muscles coiled as she readied herself to launch her attack. Inhale. Exhale. She sprung herself from the thicket and pounced onto the old man. Swiftly piercing him through the gut and casting him to the cold, snowy ground. The remaining men scrambled to arm themselves just as she'd predicted. Lunging at the boy, he spooked with a yelp and froze. She sneered at the child for a moment before the leader charged her, sword drawn cutting slashing wildly in the frigid air. Halla had just enough time to parry his attack with the face of her blade, but the force of his blow nearly cast her off balance. With a stutter, she righted herself and dodged another thrust.

"Wildling bitch." The man shouted in frustration as she continued to maneuver around his flurry of attacks.

Laughing, humorously, Halla spat back in the Old Tongue, " _Stupid fucking crow."_

Their duel drug on for several long, arduous moments after their banter had ceased. Lasting long enough, Halla was beginning to bored of the whole excursion. The man was powerful, but sloppy and his massive swings were beginning to take their toll. Endurance was on the spearwife's side as she danced around the man, always just out of his grasp.

Sparing the poor baby crow a glance, she saw he was still frozen in place, his expression a mixture of fear and awe. She smirked and decided to end this little game. She had been toying with them long enough. Ducking down, she dodged her opponent's jab, allowing him the opportunity to step closer. He moved in just about an inch or so, but it was enough to gain Halla opening and she took it. Driving the tip of her sword into the base of his throat, she ended another crow's forsakened life.

Hot, crimson blood bubbled out of his wound, mouth, and nose as he dropped his sword into the snow. Gurgling, he fell to his knees as his hands shot up to the wound and clamped around it in a desperate attempt to inhibit the bleeding. The white earth stained red as he bled out. Another swift chomp, Halla lobbed off the dying crows head, sending it tumbling across the ground. Cocking her head to the side, Halla turned to face the boy. He quaked in his black cloak as tears cascaded down his cheeks.

"Please," He begged as he backed away from the freewoman. She took a step closer to him and the boy fell to his knees, "Mother have mercy."

The boy's prayer made Halla's stomach lurch and her blood boil. She hated the southern faith nearly as much as she hated the men of the Night's Watch. Normally, she would've ended him right then and there from even uttering such vile words in the domain of the Old Gods. Instead, she sheathed her sword and squatted down in front of the boy. When he didn't meet her gaze, she reached behind her back and pulled out her axe before holding it out in the space between them.

"Your _gods_ have no power here." She hissed in the common tongue.

The boy's fearful eyes shot up at her as surprise stretched his round face. He opened his mouth to say something, but Halla didn't give him the chance as she hammered the edge of her axe into the crown of his sandy colored head. Twisting the metal about the soft matter once protected within the bone of his skull, she made sure he was dead as his body seized and collapsed before her. Satisfied, she yanked free the wedge and cleaned it off in the snow at her feet. Holstering the axe, she drew her longsword once more and sliced the boy's head off cleanly.

Straightening herself, her pale-grey eyes took in the grotesque finality of the melee. Three dead crows all in a row. Had they ever had a chance to beat her? No, they hadn't and it was evident as she stalked over to the old man she'd taken down first. His dull eyes stared, blankly up at the bleak Northern sky, there was no spark of life left in them. Cleaving his neck from his shoulders, she collected collected his head into her sack and rummaged over his corpse, looking for anything useful to bring home. She did the same with his fallen leader and the baby crow. Only finding a few trinkets, but nothing of noteworthy. Instead, she decided to relieve the dead men of their swords because her tribe needed all the steel they could get their hands on.

It took all of her strength to drag the bodies out of the brambles and frost covered thorns as she piled them in a heap to dispose of their bodies. Rummaging through her pack, she found her horn of oil and pieces of flint and ignited the flesh and cloth into a fiery mass. There no burials beyond the wall. Cremation was their only death right. No man or woman wanted to see their deceased loved ones' bodies crawling out of their graves. No person deserved to become a wight.

Halla watched the flames engulf and consume the crows for several long moments as she chewed on some jerky she'd packed for her trip. She'd need all the energy she could muster to make it back. The sun hung low over the horizon as she set off back to camp, whistling a jaunty tune as she pranced across the tundra. She couldn't wait to display her newly acquired cows' heads at the campfire that evening. Mead and ale would be flowing as her people saluted her victory. It really was good to be Halla Thornfrost

* * *

 _Short and sweet. But I've been inspired lately and cranked out this first chapter of RaN today. And I had to share it with you guys. Hope you enjoyed your first taste. Halla's something else, isn't she? Plenty more of her to come. Her odyssey is just getting started_


End file.
